The Meeting on Illium
by lander01
Summary: Joker has been lusting after Miranda quietly for years. He gets a sudden shock when one day he and he alone finds out about a special rendezvous taking place in 3 hour's time between Miranda and a strange man on Illium. With great difficulty, Joker tries to get a close eye in on this meeting as it occours. M rated for smut. (The smut isn't light in this story, be warned)
1. The Chat

1

The sharp pangs of desire were turning into a acute, quivering, unbearable sickness as Miranda placed her gloved hand on Joker's shoulder. A soapy, coconut smell which was in all reality quite mild, bled into the air and filled joker up like a drink. Then she spoke. The thought that she might have known only occurred to Joker now.

"Doing well, Joker, EDI?"

"Oh yeah. Just flying along" Joker spoke in an ordinary tone, but with the force and strain of a yell

"Everything is as it should be, Miss Lawson" EDI's hologram promptly collapsed in on itself and switched off.

"Funny, not having EDI on in the cockpit." She said

"Oh!" Joker said quivering as her hand limply declined down his shoulder, his back, and when it was swinging back down her side, she gathered both arms and folded them. "I don't have her on all the time, I'm just enjoying the view".

He had not spun around yet to look at Miranda, but did angle the ship instinctively as she arrived, putting a nice starless patch of black beneath her ghostly reflection in the cockpit window. He had not even looked at that yet. He was swelling, straining.

"Well I'd like to go to Illium within 2 hours, if that is possible."It was unusual that Miranda would try to set a destination. But at that request, a sudden fire that wilted Joker's already soft, brittle body burned inside of him. Joker thought that his body language, as hard as he might try to subdue the physical manifestation of his extreme anxiety, was probably worth addressing. He didn't look well - he couldn't have. But maybe she hasn't seen his face properly. She can't tell he's shivering with her hand no longer his shoulder. Maybe she doesn't know!

Miranda, leaning on one leg, tried to look around at Joker who had stalled in his reply. "Illium, sure. Got to ask the Commander though… EDI, get the Commander on comms."

...

"Joker."

"Commander. Miranda Lawson has requested that we travel to the Crescent Nebula - Tasale System - Illium. She's here with me."

"What does she want there?"

Involuntarily, Joker inclined his head as if to refer his attention back to Miranda. He saw the watery, blurred outline of her left side in his furthest peripheral. Miranda put her hand back on his shoulder and said "Personal business, Commander." It was becoming more real by the sentence. If the pangs in Joker's chest could make sound the whines would reach the engine room. "If there is nothing that needs our attention, I would like to visit eastern Illium."

The comm line went quiet. Miranda leaned in a little harder on Joker's shoulder. Good God, did she know? That smell! That soapy wonderful smell.

"How long would it take?"

"20 minutes - a few of hours" Joker and Miranda answered at the same time. He burned and swelled. The composure she had in this veiled conversation! Did she know he could decipher her?

"Oh." Miranda said, "I will spend a couple of hours there. Max."

"Right, I'll take about 20 minutes to get there".

"Ok take us to eastern Illium, I'll find some business there too, I'm sure".

"Great. Thank you Commander." Miranda said, reliving Joker's tortured shoulder.

They closed the comms and Joker set about for the nearest Mass Relay, dreading any more conversation with Miranda that might lead to incrimination. But there was no more conversation. Miranda thanked him and turned and walked down the neck of the ship. He stalled. He wanted to look around at her. He took too long. When he did that powerful body was carrying her away around the centre comms table towards the open elevator.

Joker shut his eyes and slid down in his chair. EDI blinked on. "Would you like me to set the destination?" She said. Joker nodded. He felt a great knot inside of him enduring even in her absence. Waves of burning helplessness swirling in a powerful maelstrom in the pit of his stomach. EDI blinked off and the ship accelerated.

2

Joker was taking a healthy amble around the ship in the early hours of the crew's new day, as they silently orbited a nearby star. Gorgeous scents of energising foods were flooding the mess hall as people sat or stood, talking, eating. The place was bustling. Joker enjoyed these early day strolls hugely because it was one of those uncommon opportunities to put himself, of his own accord and with his own brittle legs, in and amongst the general hubbub available to stout, healthy, thick-boned people. But also because this rabble didn't assemble under most normal conditions. It was nice to see everyone together.

Joker drained his drink and said goodbye to the cook as he was walking out of the mess hall, giving a couple of smiles and "Hey!"s on his way out.

As he stood in front of the elevator a thought occurred and he looked to his right. Miranda hadn't been present. He had been there since the chef had, loitering around him, drinking, snatching free plates. Miranda had definitely not come to eat. He thought he'd bring her some food and fetched a new plate before arriving at her door. He never misses a chance to see Miranda. Seeing her perched at her desk. Seeing her powerful legs carry her through the ship. Seeing her walk away. He liked that most.

Miranda's room was vacant. Joker called out a number of times, each time stepping further in and leaning on an ever steeper incline. She was showering, or she had some business elsewhere in the ship, maybe she's - a soft, persistent ding noise was made suddenly audible when the doors behind him shut and silenced the mess hall with one great clunking lock. A few seconds passed, another ding. Another and another one quickly after that. Joker stalked towards the desk tentatively, holding the plate out on one palm like a waiter. He leaned over her desk, tilted the screen back and tapped at the orange pulsating glow in the corner. Like a lightening bolt through his body, he fell back onto his heels. He began perspiring intensely. And nearly heaving. What was that? It couldn't have actually… After a second's deliberation he balanced the plate of the corner of the desk and rushed around to the front. Ding.

A massage reading "you have quite an effect on me" had just been sent in a chat beneath the picture he saw a moment ago. A pale, gleaming, form of unbelievable beauty had slid up on the screen. The head was omitted - the clavicle - the soft, white clavicle was at the top of the picture. That's the Normandy shower! Joker was swelling, dying. The side on form of Miranda lingered on the page. The picture was taken with her right hand, outstretched, at shoulder level, aiming down her body. The breasts! How beautifully they hang! And the nipples! So pink! So pale and pink, and uncharacteristically thick. They stood stout on the round surface of her breast. Her thighs. So magnificently thick and toned. The famous backside, of which only the globular outline could be seen from the side. Her stomach, so toned and ridged. How wide her hips curved down to those incredible thick thighs.

Joker looked at the other messages; the chat log was not long.

[00:00:00] He likes you too! Say hi!

[00:00:07] [M] Hello.

[00:00:24] [D] Hey, how's it going?

[00:00:30] [M] I'm interested in your service. I would like the 2000 credit service.

[00:00:49] [D] well, hang on there i've got some questions. Get to know me

[00:01:06] [D] it's a nice tummy you've got

[00:01:09] [M] Thank you.

[00:01:19] [D] that's not all there is of you is there?

[00:01:26] [D] You're not just sending over a tummy are you.

[00:01:34] [M] I'm sorry, I thought it would be enough.

[00:01:47] [D] well, I would like more before hand

[00:01:52] [M] I don't take pictures of myself.

[00:02:16] [D] sorry, just having a picture of your tummy isn't enough, I need to see you before I accept it.

[00:02:49] [M] Not my face and not naked.

[00:02:59] [D] i'd like to see your face and you must be naked too

[00:03:10] [M] I am not sending over my face and I am keeping my underwear on.

[00:03:21] [D] well the body had better be outstanding then

[00:07:47] [M] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:08:13] [D] Wow

[00:08:24] [D] write something in the condensation. Write my name. And remove the bra for god's sake

[00:09:13] [M] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:09:37] [D] My god, you just walk around in that body?

[00:10:15] [D] show me it all

[00:10:43] [D] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:11:02] [D] how am I doing?

[00:11:52] [M] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:12:21] [D] you have quite an effect on me

[00:12:42] [D] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:13:03] [D] I'm an ass man, I sense something incredible. From those pictures. Let me see

[00:13:42] [M] Enough. I have given you enough.

[00:14:21] [D] when do you want to meet?

[00:14:52] [M] As soon as possible.

[00:15:13] [D] send me a good, clear shot of your ass and I'll make room for you in a couple of hours.

[00:16:37] [M] 3 hours time? 43:00 Illium time.

[00:16:52] [D] I can do that

[00:16:58] [M] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:17:12] [D] oh my god, look at that thing

[00:17:23] [D] spank it for me and show me the mark

[00:17:34] [M] Where shall I meet you?

[00:17:59] [D] Thormin's cafe, 43:00.

[00:18:59] [D] [DOWNLOAD PICTURE]

[00:20:00] [D] what will you be wearing, so I can recognise you?

[00:20:21] [M] I will be wearing a semi-casual combat suit. Pure white, with a grey hexagonal pattern. Dark gloves and boots and belt too.

[00:20:48] [D] Who are you?

[00:21:01] [Margaret Ariwood has left the chat]

The after image of Miranda's backside lingered not just in his eyes, but in every part of him. Every sense in him panting, heaving for a simulacrum of possession over that image. His hands felt that meaty, doughy, round form, the tips of his fingers felt the wet, rubbery glide across the cheeks. He could smell, taste, feel her for an instant before it all was shattered by the sudden abandonment of the chat by the lady Margaret Ariwood. Joker grabbed his plate and dashed for the door, one giant throbbing body, engorged all over. As he was at the elevator door, panting it occurred to him to minimise the chat window. He dashed back and closed the screen, knocking it a touch as he paced out.

The elevator door swooshed open and to his right, Miranda Lawson stepped out of the showers in her white suit and entered her room.

3

60 minutes after invading Miranda's room, Joker, drifting aimlessly, powering the ship on and off and thrusting it in random directions in that way he did that infuriated the engineers below deck, Miranda went to meet him, put her hand on his shoulder and asked him to fly to Illium.

It was 10 minutes after that encounter that the blue glow of the local mass relay was reaching with thrusting tentacles towards the ship. They lurched in random directions, each whip of thin blue energy drawing nearer until it was enmeshed in a soft blue case and flung across the galaxy. Illium was immediately in sight as their ship rested. Usually Joker would announce that they were approaching Illium. But this time he just slumped in his chair, languidly rubbing a particular spot on his inner thigh.

Joker began to peel his eyes open and shake off the stillness in his body as he raised his omni-tool. He downloaded the map of the surrounding area of Thormin's cafe for safe keeping. He was still a good 12 minutes from landing in Illium and It was still a white spec in the studded sheet of space.


	2. Through the Slit

Joker had long put away his map as the Normandy slipped into Illium's orbit. He had been gazing deeply into space, deliberating. This meditation had calmed his nerves substantially, and left him with a dreamy tingle of excitement. When they landed on one of the Eastern ports, the crew, who had bunched up tightly against the exit hatch poured out at once. Small trickles of people, alone or in groups of 2 or 3 followed for some time after, ambling out in no special hurry towards the silvery streets of Illium.

Joker, for fear of losing sight of a discrete Miranda in the maelstrom of Illium's streets lingered for longer than normal in his cockpit for sight of her. When the elevator doors opened for the 7th or 8th time, carrying another load of crew to the main deck he spotted Miranda emerging by Shepard's side. They were discussing something. Joker made himself look trance-like, almost out-of-thought rather than in thought, plotting, as he turned his eyes out of the cockpit window into Illium's deep, tall silvery jungle.

"You coming, Joker?" Said Shepard, pausing.

Joker had realised he had actually succeeded in putting himself out-of-thought and spun around, surprised to be talking to him, "Oh, I'm not sure. I might, if I can think of something to do." Joker watched them walk through the hatch together. Shepard said something to her about being safe.

Joker lifted his omni-tool, bringing up the map surrounding Thormin's cafe and stared intently at it as he strode down the neck of the ship towards the gaping elevator. He rode it alone to the second floor and promptly tried his luck with Miranda's door. Closed. Naturally. A minute later Shepard emerged purposefully from the elevator and turned left away from Joker, unaware of him. The doors to liara's room parted and Shepard turned in.

Joker, a little lost for ideas at the present moment, made his way softly over, and leant up against the wall to the Medbay, close enough to hear faint conversation.

"Well I can only activate the combat trackers, I can't go tracking the personal devices of un-ID'd people. And besides Shepard, if you will permit a comment from me. She's perfectly capable, she wouldn't go get herself hopelessly into trouble like that"

"I just don't want her without backup if something goes wrong."

There was a pause as liara looked at her monitor and back at Shepard.

"Well, have you considered that maybe this… Is not a dangerous mission?"

"Of course. But I am not risking it. I need her location."

"Very well, Commander." Liara swung around towards her array of brightly flashing monitors and made the arrangements with Shepard watching. "She is currently walking towards Lemmin's plaza." Joker knew this as the plaza by Thormin's cafe.

"Any known location of Henry Lawson?" Shepard asked sternly.

"Uuh… well... no. I'll have a look around, but people like him aren't easy to track."

"Contact me in ten minutes, news or no news."

"Yes Commander."

Shepard nodded and turned out of her room. On his way to the elevator Joker began hobbling out from behind the wall, playing up his disability.

"Joker." Shepard greeted, in his stern way.

"Hey Commander."

Joker wracked his brains for a good basis for conversation. Preferably one in which he could find a personal advantage in Shepard's concern for Miranda. They stood side by side, eyes fixed ahead, waiting an unusual amount of time for the doors to open. But to Joker's great delight Shepard began talking unprompted.

"Must be offloading more crew."

"Must be." Joker affirmed.

Another interval of silence fell between them, but somehow Joker could tell Shepard was building up to something,

"I have found… after you, Joker" they walked into the freshly empty elevator together. "I have found a potential lead on… something, it's not really pertinent at this point, but I have an urgent engagement with a few asari". It couldn't be, Joker thought. His perception of his crew had been irrevocably warped by this fiasco with Miranda. Under normal circumstances he would never have assumed as he did. Besides, who even cared about this rendezvous with some Asari. Harmless. "And I have some concerns about Miranda. I can't attend to both..." Joker looked up at Shepard, nodding imperceptibly. "You seem like you're having some trouble today, I wouldn't want to overwork you."

"No! No, no, no." Joker said, with rather the same tone and heart as Santa's "Ho ho ho". "Just need to shake off the rust. Bit of an ache. Nothing." He cursed his stupid feigned gait. Exactly the wrong kind of sympathy was being given to him.

"Well in that case, how would you feel taking a bit of a walk down to place called Lemmin's plaza. Maybe a few other places, I'd have to update you."

"Nothing else to do. What am I going there for?" His heart was - not leaping exactly, but panting excitedly.

"Just keep an eye out for Miranda, would you? Don't follow her around into stores, let her go about her business. Just try to make sure she's not getting into trouble. If she goes down a shady street, meets a shady character, let me know."

"Is she going to be ok with this?"

"Henry Lawson, her father is in town. I don't know if he's involved or not, but it it's good to be cautious, and I don't want her thinking she can't have some privacy. So just go easy. Check up on her from a distance."

The doors had opened and they were well down the neck of this ship by this point. It was all empty. They paused and turned to face each other.

"Lemmin's plaza?" Joker asked,

Shepard scrunched up his face, tense in thought. "Here." He said, raising his omni-tool to his mouth. "Liara"

There was a pause.

"Yes, Commander."

"I'd like you to send the tracking data to Joker's Omni-tool."

There was a pause longer than the initial one.

"Yes commander. Sending it now."

"Any update on Henry lawson's whereabouts?" The mention of miranda's notorious father name seemed to assuage some of Liara's awkwardness around the matter.

"Eh, yes. Sort of. He's definitely here in eastern Illium. He could have something to do with a deal happening between the Illium's Starmind tech company, and the Jacksnet corporation. Still, nothing is concrete. I'm still working."

"Thank you Liara."

Joker's omni-tool flashed. He brought it up and was presented with Miranda's live position. Shepard and Joker gave their best wishes and split off into the marvellous, lofty web of Illium's streets.

Miranda seemed to have entered a hotel about a minutes brisk walk from Lemmin's plaza. A tad premature, Joker thought, unless she was making a reservation, or scouting the place out. She remained there long enough for Joker to lead himself through illium's maze and into sightline of the hotel. He stood aloft; a tactical 30 meters above street level in a busy stairwell, presiding down over the street sweeping from east to west below him. The hotel, a hotel 35, was as far from him horizontally as he was from the street vertically. So near enough to spot Mira - he was too busy eyeing the hotel to realise that to the east, Thormin's cafe could be seen. Oh this is perfect, Joker thought to himself.

She was still milling about in that hotel, but came to a sudden stop. As if pushing through a membrane she paused until the invisible barrier broke and she pierced through, winding up at the edge of the building. Joker reasoned that she had entered her room. She was at the rear end centre of an indeterminate floor number, 70 meters up from his position.

Shepard contacted Joker as he continued to wait. She had left her room now and was waiting for her elevator.

"Nothing weird at all, Commander. Right now she's Just…"

"I don't need to know. If it isn't suspicious, Joker, don't tell me. Henry Lawson seems to be of some interest, but still nothing concrete. I'll be having my meeting soon, I'll contact you again beforehand."

There she is! The eye caught on to her like a hook, how she shined! She was walking down west, opposite from Thormin's and the plaza. He kept a keen eye on her whereabouts as he walked as quickly as he could down towards the hotel. It was a glamorous, safe, comfy sort of place. Miranda had chosen well. Obedient little Asari nipped about across the marble floor. Tall, stoic, smart looking Drell stood as erect as rulers and as still as statues by doors and elevators. The place was sumptuously adorned with paintings and moody furniture. Gleaming, iridescent gems clasped delicately by spindly golden podiums. Hard looking alien rocks with raving pattern of overlapping colour made tables and doors and lighting fixtures. Old-Earthly civility was in fashion. Joker saw very little of it, marking under his breath, merely that it was "pretty nice".

"Excuse me." he called for a smart looking Drell standing with his arms behind his back, by a bright golden podium. His attention was drawn immediately, despite being 15 paces away and a behind a wall of sound being maintained by an irritating family of human's cooing and aahing at the sights of the hotel. Joker made a polite effort to limp over, but the Drell met him in a flash.

"Sir, how may I help."

"I would like to go 100 meters up. Which floor is that? Do you know?"

Joker panicked. The Drell's hard, unflinching face paused. His eyes already looking into Joker's eyes, sunk deeper and saw his intentions. His deceit. His sordid intent. He began berating - actually the drell answered without hesitation, as if he has been trained for this very occasion where a man hobbles up and asks for a floor based on it's distance from the ground. Joker's imagination had ran away with him. Before he knew it the drell had drawn himself back to his post and left him with the number 31.

31\. Another drell input it into the elevator and rode up with him. Where was Miranda? She was knocking about in a hospital. Perhaps obtaining a certificate for clean health. She was being rather still there for a while.

Middle room. Joker stood exactly where Miranda had stood, and he was facing a door. Well what do I do now? Joker asked himself. The door was obviously never going to be open. He tried it anyway. Closed.

Joker was careful not to linger suspiciously. As he paced once down the hall he caught a look inside a room which had its door wide open. He imaged it in his mind and looked for vantage spots. There were none. At least not from his insufficient image. It would probably be impossible anyway, they build these rooms deliberately so you can't look inside.

Door. Left. At the far eastern end of the hall a very thin closet was unlocked. In fact it was incapable of being locked. Nothing but a handle. It was utter pitch black inside and half as deep as the room which it bordered (room 371). Impossible, Joker thought. He peered in, leaning around. He looked up and saw a vent. It was a thin slit of a vent, but gave him hope after all. He whipped himself in and shut the door. It was darker than before. He groped around for random holds in random objects, hoisting himself with sheer will force up chance objects in his reach. His eyes slid into a razor thin beam of warm, yellow light as he met eye level with the slit. "Shit!" Joker wobbled and cursed, fright running up his spine. He had cut his hand on something sharp in front of him. He couldn't tell what it was but he cut himself again as he climbed down. The whole thing was perfect. Perfect! The bed was in clear sight, so was the window, even the door! He was even feeling the subtle sensation of a clever little idea germinating in his head as he safely reached the floor. Turning to close the door on his miracle spot, he saw as the hotel light spilled in a few feet, that rimming the left side of the upper ceiling was a long metal air duct made of a long sequence of locked metal hatches. If every one of them had been secured in and properly closed, there would have been no access to the air vent inside and would have instead been an innocent duct for air to slip out and in. But it was not closed. It was in the middle of some maintenance, and a sharp little hatch below the vent had been unscrewed and was hanging down against the wall, affording him his line of sight. Joker looked at his cut hand again and closed the door.

Miranda was leaving her spot in the hospital as Joker was leaving the hotel. Shepard called in again as his clever little idea was emerging in his head.

"Nothing, Commander. But she has just entered a hospital. Maybe I'll have something for you soon. I'm keeping a close eye." Joker knew from now on Shepard would be engaged with those Asari and not able to intervene if necessary. He hoped to be afforded some sort of special privilege. Access to her communications or something similarly drastic for closer eye-keeping. To some degree he was successful.

"I am aware. I am going to meet with my contacts now so If you need anything, contact liara. She has found Henry Lawson for us, and he is about 4 blocks from that hospital. If it's urgent, you can still get in contact with me."

The call ended and Joker ambled through the cloud-high streets towards the hospital, trusting that Miranda had still not moved since he last checked 30 seconds ago. Got it! Joker raised his omni-tool and contacted liara. It was time to till that idea that had been slowly growing.

"Hello Joker… Yes, the Commander said to help you out if you have anything. Is the Henry Lawson angle looking bad?"

"Well I can't tell yet, but things are definitely looking weird… Hey can you hack into a hotel system?"

"It depends on the hotel."

"Well, I recall from an old conversation with Miranda - ack, I don't have time, sorry. Can you look through hotel 35's bookings and find a Margaret Ariwood booked into room 362? If you find it move it into room 371"

Liara, feeling more assured with every call (Shepard's genuine sincerity, and the plausible Henry Lawson angle had clearly done much to assuage her awkwardness, for she approached this funny request with confidence), replied simply, "huh… sure. Let me know if it's any help… room 371… can I ask why that room particularly?"

"It should have special meaning to Henry Lawson. If his room changes out of nowhere to 371 -" he delivered the numbers with the emphasis of a grown man telling children a campfire horror story "- he'll suspect funny business and stay out."

"Huh, that's really clever."

"I have a feeling Miranda might enter it. That'll be fine, so long as Henry doesn't," Joker added.

As Joker was was enjoying the scalp-tingling pleasure of a clever scheme executed perfectly, and was trying to end the call gracefully, he suffered the kind of head-rush stun a shoplifter feels when a shopkeeper stalks behind the thief slipping produce away and rests a calm hand on his shoulder. Out of his trance, Joker was violently jerked. Miranda had emerged at the end of the street and was walking hastily down it. Joker said bye and rushed right into a little store selling camera's in pens, and other childish gadgetry. How apt, he thought. Miranda stormed passed, erect, swift. She would make an ideal fit for hotel 35. Maybe the owner, with a walk like that. Or with a face like that.

Joker laughed to himself and breathed a sigh of relief. In reality she would hardly have assumed espionage seeing Joker walking in an opposite direction in a thin, distant street of Illium, but the more seldom spotted the better. 1 chance meeting was permissible. 2 was as well if the location was near the initial chance meeting. But 3 or more was game over.

Joker stalked out of the shop and walked back down the street towards the long path that connected Thormin's to hotel 35. He also thought about ascending up that stairwell again. What a great place that was.

His omni-tool glowed. Liara was on the other end. "Hey Joker, Margaret Ariwood has been moved to room 371. Great job on that." It worked! Oh my god, it worked! Joker felt such a powerful rush that he felt for a brief moment that the chase was proving more satisfying than the goal.

"Thank you!" He said, utterly gleeful.

Liara gave a modest little chuckle and urged the "big, clever agent" onwards, hanging up the call promptly.

Onwards he walked. He noticed now that he had not once given a thought to his difficult bones. He smiled, a sly, dashing sort of smile. He could see miranda's black hair bobbing ahead. She was heading towards the plaza. Joker trailed at a cautious - but not too cautious distance. He watched her drift about and penetrate various streets in Illium's web for the better part of an hour, within the confines of an obscure bar with a slim, nifty little vantage into lemmin's public square, through which he was gifted the occasional thrilling pleasure of seeing his mark whisk by, thinking of anything - everything but the possibility that he was sitting in a bar, a stone's throw away.

Things had been going swimmingly. And were to continue going swimmingly, too, after a quick panic as Miranda steered her dot across the map, unmistakably towards the Normandy. Thinking quickly Joker made a call to Liara, asking her to check the engine bay for some medical supplies that might be needed if things go poorly. She searched for 20 minutes. Alas, Dr Chakwas must have already fetched them.

What had Miranda done in there? Joker pondered intently as she walked back much more leisurely than she had going the other way. In fact now she had stopped. Out of sight, many streets away. 5 minutes, still stopped, oscillating from one side of the street to the other.

When she started moving again, it was with indefatigable, driven strides which took her quickly through the streets and down into Lemmin's Plaza - then thormin's cafe - where Miranda's dot stilled itself. Joker raced into action, practically running down steps and bursting out of a door into a street that connected into the plaza.

He saw Miranda sitting at a table opposite a large, pale, muscular man. Beside the sudden swelling at the sight of Miranda and her contact (what incredible things they were going to do to each other!), to Joker this suddenly felt grossly disreputable. It seemed somehow wrong - as if she were fraternising with a foreign, and untrustworthy group.

They were to sit talking for over 20 mins. Joker burned inside. D was immensely athletic, and solidly built. He had long arms and big hands, slim, stringy, mean looking legs and a slim, hard torso.

"Liara." Joker called, desperately

"Yes, Joker?"

"Can you ID someone for me?"

"Sure, who?"

"Well… he's at Thormin's cafe. Tall, pale, athletic." D was a singular looking man in that crowd, that should have been sufficient for an ID.

There was a longish pause as Liara worked.

"There's only a few humans around there. Does he have facial hair?"

"Uuh… no."

"Well let me send you a picture of who I'm looking at."

Joker's omni-tool buzzed. He sunk into a shadow, beneath some shade and opened the picture. It was him. Strong jawed, blue-eyed, clean shaven. Joker felt sick. So this is her type? She would never have spoken of it. Never alluded to it. This side of her was totally forbidden to all. But this was it - her type of man. Joker swallowed - more than his saliva, his pride, and said "yeah that's him. Don't bother investigating. He doesn't seem very important."

"Yeah he's very young. 23. Pilot." Joker laughed uncontrollably, his heart sinking. "The name is -"

"Oh it doesn't matter. Seriously, I'm not very interested in him anymore. He just stood out a bit. Thanks though Liara."

Joker kept to that particular shadow, out of sight of Miranda and D. He stayed there for some time, until Miranda's dot began moving. She swept across his line of sight and into hotel 35. D was following many paces behind her.

Joker kept himself to nooks and corners about the streets near the hotel, watching Miranda's dot glide in and go about her business. Soon she would discover that her room had changed unexpectedly. This was an issue that would have to resolve itself. If all went absolutely perfectly, this hotel would not admit to computer failure and take responsibility for it.

Miranda met that stiff membrane again, 100 feet above ground level, centre back. This time she failed to penetrate it. Swiftly she met the concierge in the foyer. D had wandered in at this point, spotted Miranda and walked out again. The issue was currently being resolved. After some minutes passed, Miranda's dot travelled back to the elevator. D swept in. Joker followed her movement carefully. His heart bouncing in his chest as she walked the long hall towards - passed her door! Passed it all the way down to that gorgeous, beautiful, perfect room 371.

Joker flushed, exuberant. Immediately he paced across the street into the hotel - even more oblivious of his surroundings than before. He raced up to and across the hall, down to that wonderful, unlockable closet, and pulled it open. The air duct was locked shut. Every hatch had been locked shut.

This was hardly enough to dampen his flame. He spun around searching for a tool to assist him. It took only half a walk around the rim of the current floor to spot a turian fiddling around inside somebody's room. He was wielding a short, metal, buzzing, stick with a blue beam on the tip. He was aiming it at screws and bolts. He had also left a rather large cart outside the room, not unlike maid's carts which carry replacement soaps and towels. This was only different in that it stocked many various odds and bits to patch to restore functionality to rooms. As the mechanic worked, Joker slid a similar looking tool into his pocket and wound his way back to the closet.

He fiddled around with his foot in the dark groping for a hold as he fingered frantically for the duct, his aching soul actually sagging him down. Found! His toe slipped into a hidden groove and his legs pushed him into a clear and comfortable vantage.

He pulled out his blue tool and jammed it against the screws holding it to the wall. One - two - tree - four. One after the other the screws spun quietly and dropped out. He pulled down the hatch and looked inside.

Joker had been expecting, judging by the trend of the way things were going over the past few hours, that seeing Miranda plainly in that room would deliver some kind of shattering pound in his chest. This was to be the apex of this entire fiasco and his anxious, carnal stresses should correspondingly, reach their apex. But the funny thing about attaining a long dreamt goal, is that you find that thoughts are so much stronger and stranger and more personal than the blunt wide world on which one actually finds their dreams staged

He felt suddenly deeply unwelcome. A wave of fear came over him. Miranda was laying across the width of the bed with nothing on, as if she had come in after a long tiring day. Her legs hung off the side at the knee and were angled wide apart to accommodate D's magnificent form. Her back was curved up at a slight incline to afford a look at D's handsome, sweaty face. With her arms outstretched, she braced herself against the sheets of bed.

She looked - naked - exposed. A funny thing for Joker to feel, but the sight of her pale body from her head to her toes was stunning, foreign, alien. And how vicious it made Joker's hate of the man sliding himself into her. The injustice(!), Joker thought stupidly. After all these years he sees nothing at all but her face - her smooth stoic face - but this man, merely hours after first contact finds himself balls deep inside of her, massaging her from the inside, making her cringe and wince on the highest terrace of intimacy with no regard or acknowledgement whatsoever for what an unutterably desired privilege it was. It was an intolerable injustice. Is he even going to remember her? No, he'll just become another number in a slim count of men who have cheated to the summit of Miranda as Joker kicks rocks at the bottom.

Joker was feeling a massive number of powerful feelings all at once, but he decided to try to put them aside. The feelings of fear were subsiding as his confidence from his dim and lofty vantage grew. As he watched Miranda's face cringe in pleasure as her body rocked against the sheets - as he watched that loathsome man, sink that significant shaft of meat between her legs - as he saw his chicken-egg sized balls sway behind his thighs - as he observed D's hard and powerful body - his unjust, enraging possession of her - his big wide hands, wide enough to smother Joker's face, wrapped around Miranda's wafer thin, pale sides - as he found her thick bum pressed into the sheets by D's weight - her ski-slope breasts, with pink nipples that had thickened and hardened even more since her shower photos, Joker was in dire need of release. But before even Joker was conscious of it, he was rapidly racing his clenched fist over his enflamed cock. To hell with his poor bones.

This soft rhythm continued for a couple of more minutes, rolling in that hefty shaft. Sometimes holding it at deepest penetration and angling into something that made her wince. Miranda's expression was becoming more severe and her arms noticeably more strained as they clenched the sheets. And D was showing clear signs of professional restraint; From the strain in his body and the agitation in his carefully marshalled, slow strokes, it was plain to see that desperately, he wanted to pound himself into her. He was stretching his neck back, and wincing at the ceiling as he slid himself in again.

Then D said something. it was unfortunately completely inaudible to Joker, as everything had been thus far for the unfortunate placement of some sound-absorbing film (no doubt a sudden accommodation by the hotel). Miranda rolled her head into the sheets, biting savagely into her own lip, and bucked her knees up and down.

At the very next moment 3 things happened all at once. Joker, impelled by the rising intensity of the bedroom scene to find a solution to the sound problem, was stunned by a plausible idea. D's mouth opened and his neck protruded with veins. He was moaning loudly as he took his long awaited chance to give Miranda good hard pound without protest. And Miranda writhed in the sheets, quivering, moaning (oh God, how Joker wanted to hear). She raised her knees and shot her legs out, akimbo, long and straight behind D's body, pointing her toes like a ballet dancer. They shook uncontrollably.

D used his wide grip on her waist to yank her towards him. He groaned, keeping that orgasm going as long as he could. Feeling, no doubt an incredible constriction around his cock

As Joker began quivering on the edge of orgasm himself, his dark foothold broke and sent his right leg crashing down amongst the clatter of dark objects. He stood statue-like, stunned. Not even his eyes moved as he waited for something to happen. Could he hide? Was it dark enough? He cowed amongst some boxes, hoping the shroud of darkness was sufficient.

But nothing was coming. By now, surely, he said to himself. It must have been 2 minutes. Joker picked himself up and felt around in his new, displaced environment. No foot holds. Long sticks. Walls. Crumpled boxes. He swore and rubbed his head, thinking.

"Hey… Liara…" Joker whispered into omni-tool

Some seconds passed.

"Yes, Joker?" She replied whispering, and sounding concerned

"Please don't ask questions. Just get me, and only me, an audio feed into that man's PDA. The man we talked about."

"Sure, it'll take a second though, Joker. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I'm just… I'm not even concerned, just interested in what he's doing here. Just give me an audio feed, nothing else."

"Sure, but just-"

"Have to go!"

Joker shut the call and froze tentatively waiting for the precious sound to come streaming through. The first glorious, beautiful sound was an unmistakable feminine croon (how close his PDA was to the bed!), backed up by an applause of rapid smacking. He must have been really going at her! Joker swelled again, he would have given his entrails for a look inside.

He clawed and groped at the wall with astonishing strength, but to no avail. Thud! "Aa-oooh!" Came through his omni-tool. Oh God, oh God, oh God, Joker repeated as he pumped himself madly, blindly into the wall. His masturbation had became so harsh that his arm had to take a rest. It slid off his cock and swung back. His knuckles tapped into something interestingly solid. Some sort of plastic container, he discovered. But it was disappointingly short. He took to mounting himself atop it regardless, and heaved himself as far up to the vent as possible.

His eyes slowly rose to meet the thin band of light. He was stretched to his very limits, but all he could see were Miranda's scrunched soles and clamped toes stretched up to the ceiling (facing him), batting at the air in a sloshing, rhythmic motion. Back and forth on the bed. Still, the mere sight of the soles of Miranda's feet caused Joker's heart to fall on a bungee string and sag painfully in his chest. He was finally able to correlate each thud to the sudden swings of her feet.

Joker strained pointlessly to gain another inch of height, but those scrunched feet were all he could see, until all at once, rising up from between her legs, came the strong, pale, muscular back of D. He was gyrating in time with her feet. Gliding in, gliding out. His big, wide hands ran up her ankles and encircled them completely.

Thud, thud, thud

"Mmmm, guuhhh" Miranda moaned.

THUD THUD THUD. She slammed her heels down on his shoulders and moaned with her lips closed "MMMMM-AAAH' then open.

D's hand dropped from her ankles, and that back and forth rhythm was, at once, replaced by a sudden, jolting, up and down one, her feet were rising vertically, from shoulder to ear, once a second, and quite harshly. Presumably he had wrapped his long burly arms around her big strong thighs and was heaving *her* into *him*. THUD THUD THUD "AH!... KEEP… GOING" THUD THUD THUD.

All Joker. could picture was that immense manhood being driven into her. He had seen the pictures in that chat log. He had seen that tall, thick shaft with bulging head. That animalistic, uncircumcised, brutish, veiny look to it.

To hear Miranda's voice raised in such a way was simply too much for Joker. To a background of harsh thudding, Miranda cried out "AH OH OOOH" and Joker's cock began spitting long, sharp streams of cum into the wall. It was an objective of his to cum simultaneously with D, and in clear view of Miranda. Not like this. A sudden brash moan mixed with an aching plea left Joker's mouth as he jammed his palm into the head of his cock and stymied the flow. It began dripping everywhere and coating his palm, but the orgasm waned quickly and with a soaked hand he returned to stroking his aching cock.

THUD THUD THUD "Aaghh-aaghh-aaghh-OOH there! There!" Miranda was panting throatily in between involuntary moans. D was grunting too as he heaved those thighs into him, digging himself as deep as possible inside her.

"You'd better hurry up!" D said atop a heavy pant from Miranda. THUD… THUD… THUD… these were harder than any he had done before, a little spaced out and accompanied by a light wet clap.

"Oh God! OH GOD KEEP GOING" THUD... THUD… THUD... THUD… "AAAGH" Miranda cried. Joker felt his balls cramp as he listened to her cum against persistent pounding. He could see her feet scrunch and flex as they rolled around D's shoulders and kicked him gently in the sides of his head.

THUD THUD THUD. Then D groaned. "AAGH SHIT" he was moments away from orgasming himself. Joker heard a long, deep, wet, schlicking noise followed by a wet slap. He attributed it to D dragging out his cock and dropping it across her belly.

They were panting and cooing together as joker took his hand from his twitching, wet cock and tried to think. He needed a vantage urgently.

"I came pretty close that time." D said, still panting.

"Well…" Miranda said smacking her lips and wiping perspiration from her face. "You're doing marvellously."

"We're half way to half an hour" as D said that Miranda let out a sudden gush of breath. Built up another lungful and gushed it out again.

Joker shut his audio off and was took a cautious peek in the hallway. There was nothing there but an abandoned maid's cart which had been nearly emptied. He wasted no time in quietly fetching it and wheeling it back into his closet. He picked up the plastic container he had been standing on and put it atop the highest platform of the cart.

Joker turned his audio back on. "Aaahhhhh-ahhhhh-ahhhh" Miranda was breathing heavily.

Joker stepped from box to cart to container, using a mop pole as support, and his new vantage could not have been better.

But what hit joker first, was not the sight of Miranda straddling D, rolling her hips into him as he dug his fingers into her bum, but the worrisome sight of 8 fresh, finger shaped gaps in the otherwise thick layer of dust coating the chair-rail ledge on the other side of the vent. Joker recalled the panic he felt after his platform had collapsed with a loud clatter. He thought of himself cowering in the darkness as either Miranda or D climbed up to their vent and peered in. It gave him a sickening fright and an incredible thrill.

He laughed nervously as he pulled out his cock and balls and began stroking again.

Miranda was clapping her pelvis into him repeatedly. Joker could see her sheathing his big, strained cock as she rolled backwards. D was cringing, hard. His neck was enflamed and sprouting long pulsing veins. His groans had become background noise to Miranda's "Aaaahhh-ahhhh-ahhhh", but they were loud and quickly becoming difficult to ignore.

CLAP. D had thundered his cock into Miranda. She made a kind of manlyish grunt as her body jolted upwards and a ripple in her ass meat followed. She said nothing, but this was clearly a breach of some sort of agreement. "Come on now, Maggie…" CLAP "come on…" CLAP

"GUHH-GRR" that manlyish grunt came again. CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP… D grabbed Miranda by the neck and pulled her into him, spreading her big cheeks wide in Joker's direction. CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP… He began beating it into Miranda's pussy which he could see better than ever was spread wide around him.

"Ahhhhrrrr-aaaaaggh!" Miranda began to moan aloud again, and D was giving hard, stifled, powerful grunts as he drove his cock deep into her. D continued gripping Miranda by her neck, holding her into his chest, his other hand began pushing her backside down into him.

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP "aaaahhh-oh God!" D's lethargic, heavy, egg-sized balls were swinging up and smacking her in the ass.

Pound her. Destroy her. Joker thought frantically, teetering on the edge of an almighty orgasm. And as if D heard the command, he dug his heels into the sheets and for 15 long, long seconds he rocketed 4 of his hardest pounds into her every second.

"OHH GOD, OOOH AAAAAH" SLAP SLAP SLAP. She came hardly 12 pounds, or 3 seconds into his onslaught. She began quivering and shaking and "GRRRAAA-AAH"'ing. Her legs shot out to the sides as if doing the splits. Her big, round bum was quivering, sending flurries of rapid little ripples which at each pound of D's overwhelming cock were folded into the veritable tsunamis of fleshy waves, he was imparting. Those legs continued to quiver like seismograph needles. She would not stop cumming "YEAH YEAH" D was shouting annoyingly as Miranda's cries rang out.

As it was coming to a slow end, Miranda wriggled off of him, twitching mildly. Her pussy had never been worked like that, it was opening and closing in a breathing motion as she lay prostrate on the bed.

Both D and Joker eyed her form carefully. That slender dimpled back, those wide hips and that unignorable backside. It stood out on her like some unfortunate disability. But far from disabling, or unsightly, it can only be likened to a disability by its power to characterise her, and pull the eye. The rest of her was magnificent, from the soft, pudgy, soles of her feet, to the thighs, to the back. But the ass, the docile, meaty, twin-cheeks, pale ass stood out like a character of its own. If Miranda expected to lay there, unclothed and untouched by D, while displaying her backside so starkly, it was a sign of astonishing ignorance that she thought her bum was just another part of her, or could be ignored. It was not and it drew D's shaking hand immediately to it.

It had the same effect for Joker too. But all he could do was ache and rub his wet cock. Joker was moaning deeper and more sorrowfully as D dug his hand into Miranda's bum. Feeling the doughy pliability to it. He took two nice big handfuls and at once opened his grip and let it wobble back into place.

"That is the best pussy I've ever had doing this." He said, gripping himself by the base, straddling her and seating his cock comfortably between the crack of her ass.

Miranda moaned softly into her pillow. It was Joker who replied; "yeah I fucking bet it is." Under his breath, trance-like.

Joker would have loved to have seen the action. But Miranda, laying down facing the head of the bed, was easily covered by D's large body. Only her legs shot out from behind him and he rocked forward and back. Judging by the subsiding moans coming from Miranda and the the angle of D's arms, which aimed acutely into her ass, Joker took it he was sawing himself smoothly through the ample crack between her cheeks. Occasionally an arm would lift and reapply itself, finding another deep, steady grip in her supple fleshy ass.

Soon he lifted Miranda by the waist and both of them, with automaton knees shuffled around and faced the vent, almost as if the show was for Joker. THUD! D pounded Miranda forward. The wincing, grimace of pleasure on her face. That unfamiliar countenance, it made Joker want to crumble as he held back his orgasm.

THUD, she launched forward, and quickly returned into position for D to beat another one into her. THUD. On her hands and knees, D still found enough meat in her thick ass for two strong handles.

THUD THUD THUD

"Aargh God, yes! Keep going!" Miranda rang out. Her body was being launched forward and pulled back with aching rapidity. In fact it was too rapid and harsh for the handles in her ass to suffice. He was gripped tight around her waist, but intently watching the waves of ass ripple up - as was Joker.

"AGH FUCK YES." D yelled as his thrusts sped up. Miranda's jaw hung open momentarily as her eyelids fluttered and she kicked her feet into the bed. She dropped to her elbows as her arms folded helplessly inwards. This afforded just enough incline in her posture to spot the great thickness of D's cock beating into her, and sympathise with the intensity of sensation which Miranda must be feeling. THUD THUD THUD. Holy shit, Joker thought. This can't be regular for her, or she'd never be combat ready.

"AAAGH GOD, KEEP DOING IT, RIGHT THERE" there was going to be one more orgasm after this one, but this was the most intense of Miranda's session. D could feel the shuddering in her body, and the tugging in her pussy. Before the orgasm walloped into her with all its force, he climbed to his feet from his knees, still planted balls deep inside her and swung his pelvis like a pendulum. Immediately she cried out and buckled. Face down in the sheets, D kept her ass up high and fucked her with uncommon energy. "AAAGH - HUUUUGH HUUUUUGH". What animalistic cries! They continued for a while as D fucked her relentlessly. She would not stop cumming. Beating into the bed with her feet, squirming, moaning, shivering.

Miranda's orgasm came to a natural conclusion, but D continued. Their 30 minutes was up. Miranda continued to moan out. Joker even thought he heard her ask for a rest, but D wouldn't stop. His grimace became more and more severe. He slapped her ass once, twice, then turned it into a bit of a habit and slapped continuously.

This persistent ravaging, this beating Miranda deeper and deeper into the bed with all his might called up another sudden orgasm.

That was it for Joker, he simply could not hold himself back any longer. Hard, rapid spurts of cum shot into the wall as he drained himself. Miranda yelled and collapsed flat onto the bed, causing D's cock to bend painful and spring back up. He maintained his position and gave a couple of strokes to the head as his orgasm hit. The veins in his legs and neck strained, he held his breath and pumped hard, but nothing was coming out. He continued pumping for another 5 seconds, by which time Joker was depleted and resting his head against the wall, panting.

D seemed to linger in the throes of orgasm without a drop of cum. Then all of a sudden, a big packed up burst of heavy, molasses-like cum ejected out, flew the length of her body and smacked into Miranda's face with such force it skidded across her cheek, over her nose and mouth and into the sheets. He kept pumping and a quick, less stodgy load flew out into his intended target - her ass. He pumped another and another and - suddenly Joker was a deer in headlights. The door to his private nook was swung open. A bewildered Turian, the one to whom the blue screwdriver belonged, watched as Joker stored his cock away and fidgeted maniacally with his omni-tool to stop the *still*-cumming D from groaning into the mic.

The Turian rushed off. Joker actually jumped down. He fell to his knees and cursed. Limping out of the closet, burning and fearing as he has never before, he limped quickly to the array of elevators at the other end of the floor. He saw the Turian standing wide-eyed as the doors to his lift shut. Joker punched the elevator call button and waited what turned out to be only 3 second for the doors to open. But in that 3 seconds a great deal of thought occurred and a plan was formed. To his right the embedded, red fire alarm box was a gleaming opportunity. He pressed it - hard, and darted into the elevator, pressing for floor 63 (32 floors above).

When he reached floor 63, about 20 seconds later, he limped down the hall and looked panicked as he marshalled the sudden evacuation of floor 63's residents. What a hero.

Joker was counting the seconds. If he made his escape too late, the ejection of hotel 35's residents into the streets would have been completed, and left Joker to walk alone towards safety under the careful observation of the hotel staff. It needed to be timed - not perfectly, but within the slim golden zone, hidden amongst frightened, hurried men and women.

Joker thought that the time was ripe. He packed himself tight into a full elevator and rode it down. To his indescribable relief the foyer was bedlam. And, as he noticed, populated by a frightened Miranda Lawson, clutching a towel, pressed against her left cheek. Joker took the other exit and scarpered all the way back to Normandy.

He informed Liara that the hotel had its fire alarm pulled and that Miranda would probably be returning soon. Either way there is no trouble and she's safe.

He took a shower, a quick one and made his way to the cockpit where he sat idly, resting his nerves and replaying the scenes from the slit.

Where's Miranda? Joker raised his omni-tool and at the very moment up the steps into the Normandy came Miranda, with a slightly clammy, greasy looking left cheek and a gait which was nearly imperceptibly altered. Only Joker, who had studied her walk for years could spot the new tender little hiccuping motion her left leg made to ease discomfort. It was a popping jolt that lifted the leg before her foot touched the floor.

Joker was feeling bold. He wanted to jump up and walk with her to the elevator. Say hi! Ask her how her day was. But he didn't. She walked off, popping that left thigh as she went.

Later that day, in orbit around Tasale's star, dinner was being served in the mess hall. Dinner was unlike breakfast, it required a seat, which were insufficient for every member of the crew at once. So many stood and waited, talking, as many ate, and seats were abandoned and filled quickly.

Joker was sitting in front of Shepard, assuaging his fears over Miranda. He recounted the whole story. Followed her to the hotel, then to the hospital. She went shopping. He feared Henry Lawson might use that hotel room, switched it to 371, someone rung the alarm (probably Henry or one of his men's doing) and now Miranda is safe in the Normandy,

Shepard nodded shallowly as he recounted the story. "Well, at least she's safe. We'll keep this a secret, ok? I don't want her feeling that her privacy was invaded in any way."

"No of course. But was fun being in the field!"

Shepard smiled good-humouredly as Joker gave up his seat and returned his plate. No Miranda. Joker had been conscious of her absence since dinner started, but only now he let himself take in the implications fully. Maybe I'll take her a plate, he thought.

He carried a fresh, hot one off the table assuring annoyed crew mates that its recipient was Miss Lawson, not himself. The doors swooshed open and Miranda was sitting at her desk, perched beautifully.

"I brought you some dinner. If you haven't had some already, I didn't spot you."

"Thank you." Miranda stared for a long time at him. Thinking of something else? Penetrating him? Joker felt uneasy suddenly, his boldness was not earned. He walked over and handed her a plate. All the glamour and throbbing romance of the idea vanished. It was cold and weird.

The pause was long. "Feeling ok?" Joker asked,

"Joker… can I tell you something?" He was sick of feeling his soul sag and tear and break.

"Sure" is what he meant to say. Though through a dry mouth he merely opened and shut it like a carp.

"I had a dreadful day today. My father, I found, was around eastern Illium at the same time as us. I have a funny relationship with him, we are not fond of each other and I think he or one of his people had a hand in haunting me while I was there."

"Haunting you?"

"I just heard, felt, funny things walking around. I walked into a hotel to look around and things bumped into the walls and fell as if someone were moving around them quickly. I just felt strange. Then the fire alarm went, it was just all too weird."

Boldness swelling his chest. "You did look in quite a state when you walked in."

"Yeah. It was just… it made me feel scared. I needed backup. Or I shouldn't have gone." Miranda was beginning to stutter and stumble her speech. "Just please keep it from Shepard. He was offering me protection and everything and I denied it."

Joker assured her, not a soul would hear any of it.


	3. The Brief Story of an Unlikely Fling

1

Joker was heaving painfully with the thoughts - the limpid images - of D's considerable cock and balls eking out moans and cries and orgasms from Miranda.

There are some memories which exist (with eyes shut, and with deep concentration) as only the vibrating outline of the event - the associated feelings pouring forth from the undulating froth of the memory. This was how he remembered D. Associated with such feelings as envy, sickness, hatred, lust. And then there is the type of memory which can recreate a short (seconds long), but optically perfect looping rendition of some special event (meditatively with eyes shut or open, but in deep concentration). A first kiss, an accepted job offer ("you've got it"), the first fresh steps in a new house. This is how his slit-view of Miranda's Illium meeting was stored. In a sequence of spaced flashes of brilliant, perfect, vivid films. The flurry of thrusts, the rippling meat in her bum, the moans and cries, the flailing feet, etc.

One would think that at this current moment in time, I mean this exact instant in Joker's world, that there would be no room in his brain for such overwhelming, pain inducing thoughts, but in fact, it was the thoughts you would presume to be filling his brain to the brim which were self destructing of their own accord, leaving vacuums into which D's thunderous cock invaded (hugged, as it always was between two doughy, white cheeks).

At this very moment Joker had his pants off, his shirt off, his shoes off. Was seated. His healthy, boyish looking, but uncharacteristically girthy penis was stood straight up in the air, emblazoned from base to head with desperate veins, and two doughy white cheeks began sliding down it. Then they slid up. Then they slid down again. Then with an urgent shimmy from Joker his penis fell out and began convulsing, leaving long, flat, pearly ropes on the floor between the upsidedown V of two nice pale legs.

2

Joker had hardly eaten a thing in 2 days - not since his miserable and pathetic convulsion with Miranda. He slept with sleeping pills. And could not muster an erection for love nor money. He sat alone, late at breakfast prodding his food, head on hand, retracting his spread fingers into tight curls, automatically scratching his beard and earlobe. Suddenly into the quiet and depopulated mess hall a slender, beaming white figure swooped into the room - Joker's heart gave one mighty wallop, he retracted his elbows and looked up - and it landed in his plate. Joker retrieved the soupy paper aeroplane and lifted it like a limp salue as if to say "got it" at the table of 3, who upon immediately getting up and leaving their tables had the air of "getting out of this joint" to find a livelier spot on the ship.

Joker was called to the cockpit for a change in orbit. A long ellipse - pill shaped - was needed over the regular egg to reach Naxell. He left his food on his table. That was enough of that. He thought about how he had seen Miranda hardly at all since that meeting two days ago. Under usual (and old) circumstances he didn't see her very often anyway, but things had absolutely changed, something needed to be said! Something with a better finality, with more of a summarising, rounding, "this is where we are" quality to it than the words they parted on 2 days prior. "Oh it's alright, really. No really, it's fine. It's fine." Joker repeated it in his head and winced.

Joker asked EDI to make the manoeuvres as he slumped into his chair, and she explained why that was not possible in this part of space. So impatient Joker flung the thing into position and shot it into the new orbit himself. Everything on the ship was a little out of place after that. All over the ship fingers nudged cups back, readjusted seat belts, refitted loose hair strands, stilled rolling ammunition, and Miranda watched her heavy curtains sway and settle again.

Joker sat mournfully in his chair and eyed Naxell, a meaninglessly distant red spec studded into the black sheet of space. He was thinking of Miranda. Miranda was thinking of him.

Joker was fixed madly on the minutes of sexual interaction he had with Miranda, painfully reliving the scene which had monstrously mutated like a nightmare. And like a nightmare, it's mutations, which had turned Miranda into an insolent, sarcastic, but charitable nymph, and Joker into a mopey, ungrateful, mouse of a man, were utterly fact to him.

Miranda however was focused much more lucidly and intelligently on Joker's present condition.

As she sat on her bed, toying with her pistol, reading Shepard's mission brief before departure into Naxell, her mind slid into new tracks of thought like a needle on a broken record. She also relieved the intercourse with Joker (but only as part of her general track of thought), and it cannot be said that it too did not mutate, but if it did, it did like a dream. Her great efforts to sympathise with embarrassed, chastened Joker, impelled later by necessity (if she were to not sour on him when he left behind in her room a large pool of cum to clean), had left her with a tender, but trepidatious sort of feeling toward him. This is why contact had not been made. The wounds on Joker might have been too raw and some sudden contact might have might have turned them into permanent scars. Wait for him, she thought. Or maybe when he seems to have recovered more.

"And we find the… fourteen… Dackzal… potentially angry…" The brief was impossible to read. She slapped herself and read it aloud. Done. She tested her recollection and felt it was sufficient. Swiftly she abandoned her bed and walked over to her motionless curtains, whereupon she parted them and rested her eyes in space. She recalled her first throbs of tenderness towards Joker with a large, satisfying sigh, and prepared to rerender, in minute detail (as was the cinematic privilege of a prodigious memory like hers) the brief story of an unlikely fling.

3

Miranda had been left shaken and claustrophobic by the day's events on Illium.

She resented the alteration D's uncontrollable thrusts had made to her distinctly prim and two dimensional gait. She sighed like a woman with an unrelenting toothache when touching for the 9th, 12th, 15th time a spot on her cheek which would simply not relinquish that thin film of D's particles which turned her contaminated left cheek rubbery. She felt marked. Like a physical impression had been made on her by that brute. And he was a brute.

She had left the women's shower soaked and scrubbed raw for the 5th time within 5 hours. She nipped, towel-clad into her room and redressed, missing by seconds the first crew members to emerge from the elevator and stride, hungrily canteenward.

Miranda did not have dinner that night. Not until a certain kind-hearted, conscious pilot noticed her absence and carried some dinner in for her. He stopped in the doorway. He looked quite handsome and relaxed. The food smelled heavenly.

It was as if she had been reaching out unconsciously with invisible limbs for someone to embrace. Quite some other part of her, in some other dimension, all tentacles and wisdom that produces that soul-borne yearning one trusts on instinct. It groped and lashed for Joker.

She confided (untruthfully) in him. It was a first step. They ate dinner together through patchy silence and soothing, short conversations. Miranda's posture had relaxed considerably, and Joker's had too. But when the plate was cleaned, that inward tentacular spirit began unembracing and repelling Joker. Miranda heeded and gave a polite reason for him to leave, and he did, but on the best of terms. She glowed for some time after.

"Lovely dinner." She messaged.

Joker replied quickly; ":)"

…

Still joker: "Really enjoyed it!"

The next day Miranda felt considerably more peppy. She made her first visit to Joker. She patted him on his shoulder and asked him how he was.

That fiasco the day before on Illium was really proving to be little more than a faint blemish on her psyche. It was buffing out marvellously. And had Joker tried, with all the charm and humour in the world, today or any other day on the calendar except that vulnerable and ripe yesterday to get his foot in the door with her, it would have been hopeless. But that was not the case, and that specific and perfect day had been the day he struck. And the next morning he had attained a much greater status with her. A sort of bright outline traced him. She saw him with the same stark consciousness one sees an extra in a film whom one knows personally. In and amongst the crowds of the ship - eating breakfast, swaggering around the main deck and making conversation with the crew members - to spot him was like spotting a celebrity. A personal celebrity.

Stopping to speak to one another was becoming a common occurrence, but the conversations we're only brief. Joker thought that perhaps Miranda was obtaining her satisfaction by mere friendship. Perhaps he was some kind of spiritual prophylactic whose be benefits were nicely felt in simple, friendly company. Joker set about to cause an upheaval to this potential reality.

"Hey, want to have lunch right now? I'm starving." Miranda had been talking about something in one of their passing, upbeat conversations. Miranda's face remained curiously unchanged. Only her eyebrows lifted, but not as a signifier of some inner change of complexion, or surprise, but only to facilitate a rapid little nod.

They walked together down the neck of the ship and into the elevator. Things were quiet here. For a little too long, Miranda thought. So she started talking - about anything. The conversation went into lunch, then a bit after lunch. Then at dinner, after a longish break when Joker was needed by the wheel and Miranda remembered her work.

For two days following Miranda made very regular visits to Joker who was quite often bound to the wheel. And her contrived justifications for incidentally requiring a service only purveyed on the main deck were becoming remarkably serendipitous. So serendipitous in fact that they both decided, knowingly, to not ask questions and just smile instead.

There was something giddily childish in developing a crush in a populated ship - or in an apartment block - or on an ocean liner - or with a next door neighbour. The close proximity and the inescapability of one's environs imbues one with a sense of curious recklessness. And at some quaint, coy, semi-transparent phase of the burgeoning crush, the two develop a sort of web which communicates not with clear signs and symbols, but with stealthy vibrations that tug and twang that, when looking at the same planet, or hearing footsteps or a door shut somewhere, gives a little assurance on both ends. Both quiver. Both smile. And both hope their crush are feeling the same thing. This sense is heightened unbearably within the small confines of a ship in space.

Miranda invited Joker into her room on the fourth day. It was inevitable. Miranda knew it (as is the privilege of women of her stature) and Joker refused to believe it. But within 30 minutes, sitting on the foot of her bed Miranda's drunken (she was entirely sober, and neither had drunk a drop, but they were feeling a little drunk regardless), enthusiastic cheek pecking had become longer and wetter and involved much more lip.

She kissed him. She fit his quivering dry bottom lip between her big purple ones. She went back repeatedly to the well for over 10 minutes, feeding on his limp, clumsy mouth. Sometimes one feels so powerfully a simple prime emotion that it blots out much of the rest of one's consciousness. This is how Joker was feeling and in such a simple situation, his mind is best described in one word, repeated unendingly: scared.

Scared as her face pressed against his. Scared as she smiled and asked him if he was ok. Scared as she stood and removed her top to reveal her buoyant, soft breasts cupped in her lacy bra. Scared as her tummy was as perfect as it could be. Scared as she kissed him again. Scared as he returned her kiss more forcefully.

Scared to hell and back as D all of a sudden thrust into his consciousness. Joker's top had found itself tossed to the other side of the bed. Miranda had began the swift process of hooking his shoes off when Joker envisioned himself standing next to D. His swinging cock next to Joker's. His big animalistic balls next to Joker's. His ability to pound like hell, and then Joker's. This line of thought continued until the night was over.

Soon both were in their underwear, and Joker's stiffish demeanour was becoming a tad onerous on Miranda's thriving passion. She kissed him again and got to removing his underwear. She actually felt his heartbeat against her cheek.

Joker was not quite right to be afraid. Certainly he was not formidably lengthy, it was a boyish looking thing. Not a vein or bump or anything to blemish the smooth, flat surface. It was extremely wide too, if there was one thing to boost his confidence it's that Miranda would need a second hand to clasp the entire thing. In fact it was this element of his dimensions which caused the curious pokes and the gentle, playful examination of his member (and suddenly that smoothness was blemished by a heaving single vein which had risen from the base to tip of his penis). His balls too, for their utter heft received a four fingered lift.

Pleased. Quite seriously pleased, Miranda held his thick, heavy penis along her bare right hand, with all her fingers together and leaning sideways towards her, and her thumb pointed in the direction of Joker, rather like how she would hold a wine glass. She cradled it and slowly pushed her hand up towards him and back again.

She gave him a "ready to go?" look and kissed him before standing up and removing her bra and underwear. The ineffable chaos in Joker's head caused him to throw it back and wince at the ceiling. When he looked back Miranda was erecting herself and tossing her underwear to the side.

She pivoted and placed her backside starkly in view and at a distance measurable in inches. Joker's felt that his heart might be the end of him as he stared, incapable of being lulled into a trance but thrillingly, excitedly, nervously assimilating every particle of it with his eyes. And It continued to just *be* there. Miranda was offering it like some robot who knows only to *present* the body-part to the mouth-frothing simian. The simian whom she trusts will act on instinct. It stood there all meat and cheek, flanked by two beautiful legs and a slender back in a "well, here it is then" fashion. Her hands were on her hips!

But melting, throbbing, dying Joker could not retreat if he wanted to. He tentatively reached for it with his right hand. He was shaking. Then he clamped down hard. Too hard. His thumb had innocently grazed too deep into her crack and his fingers were trying to puncture her hip. He gave it a good squeeze and shook it. He didn't wobble, or set some sightly waviness in it, he shook it - up and down like one might cock and shotgun. It did produce, accidentally, some lusty waves in her left, naked cheek. The kind that could be imparted by a hard thud from a man's pelvis. But Joker was too fixated upon his own rough handiwork to see. He shook it again, but Miranda dipped her hips forward a little and his hand fell out.

After a short series of umms and aaahs and colliding bodies as they negotiated their first awkward position, she assumed a rather unpretty but practical one. Purely introductory, of course. Between his open legs (backside facing him), she bowed her knees out in order to gain sight of their business and she guided herself down on her haunches onto his stationary, erect, bursting cock. Joker instinctively held his base and felt the damp, petally folds of her vagina drape like a dropped curtain down his head. The big, taught, moonish cheeks still maintained a thick layer of meat as she bent her knees to an even more acute angle and her back made a 90 degree L with Joker's body. Then she went in for the kill.

And it was at this moment that Joker lost his bearings. The vision of her powerful, taught bum touched gently down on his open legs. The way her crack spread helplessly open. What a forbidden sight! The long dimpled back. Miranda! Her big bum perched there, like a honey bee perched on a flower, ready to take off at any moment. What a formidable thing it is! How it just devoured him! He convulsed. His cock kicked inside of her. She lifted up, but not all the way and sank back down with an unimaginably pleasurable resistance. He kicked again and in her warm, damp embrace, he felt the mental equivalent of a rock climber's footholds giving way, and tense, squirming Joker simply graded into thoughtlessness. He pushed out a sudden river of precum. He moaned and shuffled urgently away. His cock dropped out from under her and began hurling long ropes into the floor.

Miranda stayed squat for just a couple of moments, a tad bewildered, until a long, white blast flopped heavily onto the floor between her feet. She erected herself, and spun around. Joker's face was flushed red. Even greater was his embarrassment when as he apologised, in a manner so detached it would have been funny were it not overwhelmingly pitiable to see, his chubby, inflamed penis was still giving great high flicks and shooting onto the floor.

"Jesus, Joker" she said with the incredulous amusement of someone watching a friend down 3 pints in 10 seconds.

9 or 10 ropes later, each considerably more frightening than the last, his flicking penis descended rather limply and twitched as it sprayed watery droplets.

"Well…" she started.

A couple of minutes later, alone in her room, feeling as though she might have repaired Joker with some encouraging, kind words, before sending him, in a matronly fashion to the showers, was the most trying time of her queer affection for Joker. She thought it would be too hideous and painful a sight to see Joker mop up his own mess in the mood he was in, so not even considering the fact that it left her with the responsibility, she lifted him to his feet, unfolded a nice, big, warm towel and wrapped him up in it before sending him on his way.

Now here she was. Not a thread to cover her. On her hands and knees dropping soft, droopy paper squarelets onto the melted pools of cum. Each squarelet absorbed the liquid stuff to it's very highest capacity in mere instants then sunk into the shallow murky depth, bloated and discoloured. Another paper square reinforcement would soon follow on top. Before long, a good 2 meter long slap-dash mosaic of soggy, wrinkled paper squarelets lay before her on her floor. At the sudden sight of some leakage, she hurried to surround the papery mound with a fatal trail of dry, capable paper. There, she thought. Contained.

As she embarked on the soggy to and froing from her sink to the mess with handfuls of cummy paper and a permanent grimace on her face, she was trying quite seriously to not let her affection for Joker sour. She took every sharp stab of consciousness of this disgusting situation and felt backwards the thread of thought that lead her to Joker and his moment of sudden emission. She put herself in his place and made wild accusations and incredible justifications. She pitied him most of all - she massaged and matured that feeling within her assiduously, until the grimace melted away and she was handling the mess with detachment and sympathy fit for motherhood.

4

Miranda got the call from Shepard that it was time to leave. Miranda looked back at her bed in silence. She raised her omnitool and began typing.

"Dear Joker,

I am just about to land down on Naxell, and I'll be gone for many hours. The Commander says that it is unlikely that we will have to stay there for sleep.

I just wanted to let you know that I haven't decided never to say hi to you again, and my feelings are not so simple and shallow that they can be damaged by one silly night.

Love,

Miranda"

As she hit send the doors on the shuttle closed.


	4. Fragments of a hotel passion

Recently, I came over with a strong urge to write something smutty in the ME universe, and I remembered how I still had fragments of scenes and descriptions left over from all the failed starts at the final chapter of this story. I hated nearly everything I wrote, except the fragments which were about the sex scene. So collected what I wanted in that document and put them together here.

That didn't quite satisfy me though. I enjoyed reading through it, and making revisions along the way, but I still had the energy to write something original. The product of that energy is what you see below. I ended up rewriting the entire sex scene from beginning to end, extending it quite a bit, and reducing the variety of positions dramatically.

Where you see: … ? … you see chapter markers. The question marks are there as placeholders for their real chapter values when the full chapter is complete - but it won't be completed. Where there is a chapter heading with nothing under it, I would like to have written some more of the story, but don't worry, none of the sex scene is missing. Each time there's an empty chapter, it would have contained a journey into some other part of the hotel, only to come back next chapter mid sex scene with Miranda and Joker.

Enjoy.

... 00 ...

Enduring in a permanent atmosphere of loose, fine, green dust was a little settlement of roughly 55 buildings networked confusingly by opaque tubes for travelling down. From above everything was made of the same brutal local geologic material. For as far as the eye could see, and indeed far beyond that Naxel had naturally sprouted tens of millions of little geologic curiosities known locally as "klips". They're semi-translucent gems, dull green in dark, dazzlingly green in light, about a foot tall and all angled towards the same point at the horizon. The ground had been cleared around the settlement and revealed a wavy smooth ground, coloured a turgid sickly brown.

The fine green, everywhere dust could be seen through well enough, but on the horizon an flat, opaque mountain of dust was approaching.

... 01 ...

... ? ...

Sometime later, during some quiet discussion about life on the Normandy that cloud was beginning to reveal its monstrous proportions. It was utterly beyond expectation. Like something out of a novel, Joker remarked. Astonishingly claustrophobic, Miranda said.

Miranda looked over at joker. In the monochrome light, his hand spread across his eyes, fingers to temple, cast a spider-like shadow down his grey face. He was slouched to one side, resting an elbow on the table. A small amount of pity was beginning to creep in for Miranda. She made a whimpering sound and said: "Come on, Joker…" There was a long pause. "Well… You've seen the worst and stupidest of me. This was never going to end well". Joker, in one motion shut his eyes and took a deep breath that raised his whole chest. She kept her pitying eyes on him.

Miranda gave a start at a new sentence, yet it amounted only to a guttural "guh" sound before collapsing in her throat. Her eyes zipped about the room, as she spooled up the boldness to propose her idea. Suddenly, she brightened all at once and filled her lungs with the intent to speak. But turned to look at him and the sentence turned to thin air in her mouth. Joker noticed the sudden glance, however, and spun his eyes over to her with his head following slowly.

"Look" She said, "I've been abominable. Just awful. And selfish. And there's hardly a thing I can do to improve your condition. Or mine. We just have to be adults... And move on." She slung her left thigh over her right knee. The fabric squeaked. "… Get on with our lives and our work… Yes? You know, Joker? And be careful not to stray into this territory with anyone else again. I suppose we can use this as a learning experience." Joker slumped pathetically like a child and nodded gradually, his elbow still fixed to the table and his fingers at his temples. Miranda gave a little exasperated burst of breath.

"I… don't know what to say", is what Miranda wanted to say, but she stammered again and could not get it out. Irritation was growing in her chest at her pilot's absolute refusal to cooperate with her. "Oh, come on, Joker!" - this was left unsaid too, after a pause and another failed start.

The cloud of dust had inched slightly closer. "Look" Miranda said turning away from the window to see Joker. "How about - please take your arm down. Please?" He arose from his almost atlas-like pose with slightly damp eyes and a miserable look. "I will make this offer only once. In order to put this whole thing - to bed - so to speak - to put it completely to rest, to not speak of it again, to hopefully raise your spirits, we can have one little thing. Right now."

Joker remained as still as a statue but for an almost imperceptible curious lift of his eyebrows. His whole body began to swell and the drum of his heart began beating loud and fast. He could hardly talk through his craggy and dry throat, but he said: "… thing?".

"Well, do you want that?" Joker blinked and nodded modest little nods. "Now, or in a couple of minutes. Are you up for that?" Body aching, temples pounding, penis at full, aching size, he took a slow gulp of air and asked croakily: "What are we going to do?" This was something Miranda had not contemplated from beginning to end. "Well." She sighed, opening her eyes wide and looking around the room as if searching for an answer. "My hand. That's all that's needed. I'd be willing to bet that that a lot of what you feel now will disappear the moment we finish."

... ?+1 ...

Joker was sitting, shoeless and trouserless on the hard wooden lip at foot of the bed, while Miranda sat on the quilted side and was elegantly unfolding her limbs out of her suit which she subsequently rolled down to her waist, revealing more and more bare white flesh to him.

Her tangible, real body, her intentions, the thought that they had been mere friendly colleagues two weeks before, her beauty, his overwhelming desire. It was Exasperating for him. He began to subtly tremble as he sat alone.

Miranda was so rarely seen out-of-suit, that to see her mere hand ungloved was like seeing a creature out of its shell. Here, now standing before Joker she was in nothing but a black lace bra, and her old shedded combat skin hanging off her waist and still encasing her hips and everything below.

What an intoxicating, maddening blast of unknown sights, scents, and textures her bare, human torso presented to Joker. To Joker at this moment, nobody had ever looked more naked. And never had he felt such a desire to consume another human in every possible fashion.

Miranda lifted up the corner of the sheets, sat cross-legged on the mattress facing him and flopped the sheets back over her lap. Scoot closer, she told him by means of light taps on the sheets in front of her. When he was comfortably in reach she leant forward for the waistband of his underwear and asked him to lie back. "I think it will be easier for both of us", she added quickly, and he fell back with a soft thwump.

Her action in pulling his underwear down was quick and unflinching. The shaft from base to head was now bare, but the band of his underwear was catching on the significant lip on the head of his penis. She brought her hooked thumbs closer together along the band and lifted it up and over. His manhood sprung up fiercely, bulging, covered in a lightning strike of veins and kicking at the air.

She moved his underwear further down his thighs, and with a quiet, deep breath she clasped the warm shaft. Before she made any vertical motion, she make a joy-stick like twist to see the comfortable distance between her thumb and every other finger.

Like a helpless, animal in heat he unconsciously thrust his hips into the air which more or less created the initial stroke of many to come

Her loose hand travelled up and down his fat, dry shaft, but always stopped before the tip, and this was for one reason. Miranda felt that engulfing the head of his penis required a degree of intimacy that didn't exist in their rushed and impassionate encounter. It was nonsensical, but it was true, and they both felt it that there was another layer of vulnerable nakedness in that exposed head, and touching it, especially firmly and with intention would all at once crumble the business like veneer that Miranda was trying to maintain.

Her floppy automaton hand continued its duty up and down the shaft. Her grip was loose, but tight enough that each time her hand travelled up, the balls in their big bloated sack would be collected together, lifted up and promptly plopped back down again onto the hard wooden edge of the bed.

The look on Joker's face said more of his tension and the strain on his composure more than it did of any pleasure he was feeling. Moreover Miranda could no longer feel a certain vein which had sunk back into the body of the cock, but once pulsed furiously against the tips of 3 of her fingers. Nevertheless she powered on, but each stroke being identical to the last, and obstinately refusing to travel over the head, his penis began to ever so slightly wilt.

... ?+2 ...

The thick brim of Joker's meaty tip hit the rungs of Miranda's fingers, as her wide soft palm gently cupped the two bulbous splits in the back of the head. Joker spasmed and winced. He craned his neck upwards and drunk in the sight of Miranda working on him

Very soon after she began on his tip, she switched to her left hand for two purposes. The first was to rest her tired arm, which now was upturned, curled and dead in her lap, the other was to ease the stroke by having her wide palm slide up the broad part of the tip.. He had to constantly reassure himself that what he saw and felt was real.

Very soon after she began on his tip, she switched to her left hand for two purposes. The first was to rest her tired arm, which now was upturned, curled and dead in her lap, the other was to ease the stroke by having her wide palm slide up the broad part of the tip.

Soon she tightened this new grip. There was an extremely sharp, pleasurable sensation each time Joker's compacted cockhead bloomed out the top of her fist. The texture of his bulky, iron-like cock slipping through her hands was something she was beginning to get used to - it was no longer causing her palpitations and it stopped making her head throb each time she looked at it. The whole affair as it was at that moment was becoming quite calm and endurable for her.

There was nothing special or unique in her stroke. It went plainly up to the top and down to the bottom, and spent an equal amount of time in contact each part of the member.

Her mind started to wonder. Joker had disappeared into some dreamy private universe of pleasure and sexual thrill. Miranda let her eyes rest on his penis for a while as her hand continued autonomously. She observed the beefy tip wobble a little each time her hand came off it, and a small vein in his base that flexed every couple of seconds. She was being lured into a state of relaxed hypnosis by the stillness of the room, the gradual darkening of the world beyond which was sinking everything into darker and darker grades of golden brown, the recurrent flopping of her hand, and the reliable reactions in joker's warm, dry meat.

Things continued without the slightest change for another three minutes, when as the head of his penis felt the squeeze of her soft hand for the hundred and fiftieth time a floorboard creaked in a very particular way that inserted into Miranda's dream, but not Jokers, the idea of a knock at the door. It grew in Miranda's mind into a serious concern. She began to play and replay the idea of a member of crew, or a member of staff calling up on them.

Joker had propped himself up on his elbows to appreciate the sight of his pole of meat being tended to by Miranda's hand when he saw her twist to see the door behind her. Joker was biting his lip very hard, but relaxed it a bit when Miranda let her grip slacken and her pace slow to a lazy jerk.

She untwisted herself and, still in a dream but with slightly furrowed brows she asked in low tones: "how's it coming along?"

Taking rapid shallow breaths, Joker: "Umm, yeah... Really good"

"Uh huh..." Miranda hummed. Then suddenly the foggy day dream cleared and she opened her eyes wide to respond: "I mean. How... Far along are you?". She quickened her pace and tightened her grip again, which made Joker shudder and tense.

"Well... Pretty close I think." There was a long pause where the sound of skin stroking skin could be heard clearly. "It's uh... I think it's a little dry. It stings a bit when you, uh...".

Miranda let go of him at once and decided that something here had to change. She looked at her aching hand and noticed one of her legs was going a little tingly and numb too. Without saying a word Miranda slid out from under the sheets and, posed like an ice skater with one foot on the floor, and the other stretched out behind her with toes pointed she leaned towards the door, opened and peeked her head out.

Joker began to feel quite awkward and silly lying supine as he was with his raging penis flicking at her, so he sat up. By the time she satisfied herself that no one was coming, she returned to both her feet, shut the door and saw him standing by the bed with his underwear up and the outline of his beefy manhood curving down to his thigh.

The bulk of the cloud had finally eclipsed the sun, and everything was still and abiding in its dark, massive shadow. But the cloud did not have a constant density from one end to the other, it was intricately textured by areas of dramatically varying density. It was a great tapestry of differently shaped and sized sub-clouds which permitted less or more bursts of that sun's light dependant on the thickness of each bit of the cloud. The result was an effect quite like water caustics, and the land, including the room was awash, brilliantly in it.

A thin strip of bright sunlight light zipped down from the peak of the mountain and travelled 30 minutes towards their window gently, and in that moment as they stood facing each other it broke into the room and travelled up their dark shadowy bodies.

... ?+3 ...

They were sitting back at the table facing that window. The amazing light show had captivated them - or Miranda at least, for a few minutes. She and her combat suit was still hanging off her waist, and her hard, slip of a frame was enjoying the nakedness of being out of her suit. Joker had his underwear, and shirt on, and was trying quite hard to enjoy the sights.

"It's not going to go in my mouth" Miranda said.

"I didn't ask you..."

"No, I know, but there isn't anything here to get it wet, so if you're alright with it I'll lick my hand or something."

There were a host of things that Miranda was not prepared to do; she would not get on her knees to do the job - she found it a bit abasing. She would not suck on any part of his body, nor would be let him see her spit into her own hand. Each of those activities, she felt were not appropriate for this purely practical and necessary intimacy. As close to a doctor/patient relationship as could be attained, Miranda wanted to reach and maintain it. Three concessions had already been made by touching the head of his member, agreeing to use lubrication, and the most severe of all of them, consenting to employ her own saliva as lubrication, and she was not going to make another.

She patted the table and had him sit there after he had removed his underwear. This way she could manipulate his member while standing. His penis was not nearly at the intensity it was at 10 minutes ago. Therefore Miranda's stroke tactic had to be changed to accommodate an immensely thick but floppy penis. she picked it up in by the tips of her fingers, and with the same hand brought in the palm and fully encased the head in her grip. Joker had not seen Miranda lubricate her hand, but he felt immediately the slick cushion of a wad of saliva pooled in her palm squish into the broad curved side of his cockhead.

*whew* Breathed Joker as he leaned back onto his palms "... *man*"

In order to fully spread the lubricant, Miranda had to do some interesting rotations and strokes. She twirled the head and pumped down the shaft. Used her index finger and thumb to make a ring which twisted under the head against its big meaty lip. She even - to joker's surprise used her index finger to press in and trace the split between the two meaty nubs at the back and up the urethra.

The shock and pleasure in Joker's body language and expression was unignorable. That big vein that travelled up the middle of his shaft had reemerged and was beating hard into her hand. Miranda thought as she twisted her fist over the head another time, that maybe this "colourful" manipulation is just how the job has to be done. In the light of Joker's heavy breathing and flushed face, her plain, dry, up and down strokes from before seemed obviously unfit for the job. Another concession was made. She continued to stroke in a twisting, plunging fashion.

She shivered and cringed as he grunted and their touching flesh squelched and squished. This would take some getting used to for Miranda. This affair had crossed well over the line between where doctor and patient sit. Most of her eccentric motions were unnecessary. They just caused pleasure that wasn't needed to reach the end she wanted. In fact, the cringe-worthiness bought on by it all caused her to return to her plain strokes. But it didn't last long, as Joker, with eyes clamped shut and in throes of mad lust he thrusted his hips desperately in the air with a pathetic whine.

At the very least it will get the job done quickly, she thought. Miranda had tucked her left hand under her right arm, and was leaning forward at a small angle. Joker was clutching at the side of the table and squeezing a scrunch of fabric of his shirt as he swung his legs off the end of the table agitatedly.

By now things were in full swing. Her wet fist down his wet meat were producing juicy thwacking sounds at a rate of 4 a second. And her pumps had become so vigorous that each time she stopped to reverse the direction of the stroke up his raging pole of meat, her whole upper body, and especially her full buoyant breasts wobbled.

While Joker was flat on his back and looking at the ceiling, Miranda quickly made a surreptitious dip forward to let a wad of spit she had been generating land on his head and be immediately subsumed into the existing coating by her twisting, almost playful hand.

... ?+4 ...

... ?+5 ...

"Come on, Joker. Come on." She said impatiently.

Miranda had both hands on his member. One was steadying it by clutching the base, the other was twisting, squeezing and massaging his meaty, soaked tip.

"Joker... Are you anywhere near?" As she said this, her whole body looked to change gear and speed up. She leaned in at a steeper angle, her elbow swung out and the pumping became more intense.

*thwack thwack thwack*

Joker had been indulging in a series of horrible and revolting thoughts in order to prolong the experience, and only permitted himself an eyeful of what Miranda was doing to his body when he was safely and comfortably below the edge.

Miranda was becoming exasperated and even bored, and thoughts of abandoning this whole thing were beginning to form in her.

"Joker." She said more loudly than before, snapping him out of his disgusting dreams and forcing him to see her. "I said are you *anywhere* near the end?"

Joker, thinking the affair had run its course said heavily, and with a lot of breath "Oh yeah... I'm just about to...".

"Ok, well when you do, you've got to tell me, ok? Try not to go into a daydream, focus."

Miranda, whose legs were getting rather tired, hooked a chair towards her with her foot and knelt on it with one knee, as she went into an even higher gear and virtually attacked the tip of his cock. *shlick shlick shlick* She didn't bother with the rest of his shaft, which had been drying for over 5 minutes. That ball of raw nerves was the centre of her focus. She squeezed, she twisted, she even once or twice turned her thumb and middle finger into a ring and jiggled the lip.

Joker manifested a constipated expression, and his whole body when ridged. His swinging legs unconsciously wrapped around the back of Miranda's knees, for which he apologised. "It's fine" she said rapidly. "Just focus on getting to the end". *shlick shlick shlick*

Miranda could not see through the flurry of pumps and the saliva, but he had just emitted a long trickle of crystalline precum. But he was still, 60 seconds after declaring himself "about to" holding himself at bay. Miranda, now biting her bottom lip spat clearly and unashamedly at his lucky meat.

"Joker, I'm not going to do this fore..." *shlick shlick shli-* There was a knock at the door. She stopped immediately with her fist on the head, the other at the base and held it there, frozen. Slowly she had been getting comfortable in their seclusion, but with that knock, reality came pouring in and she saw herself from the perspective of their visitor, clutching at the solid penis of a man with both fists, not naked, but in a bra with half of her suit on, decidedly composed, he, decidedly not. In what dire ways could this scene be interpreted?

With a sticky wet sound she released his thick, aching member and popped her arms into her suit and zipped it up in time for the second round of knocking, but this time it was accompanied with a voice. A stranger's. And what it said was imperceptible. Miranda leapt for Joker's trousers and threw them at him as she opened the door only a crack.

"A human." A loud rebreather apparatus hissed as the little plump Volus drew breath. "The guests are gathering in the lobby madam to take shelter from the *... breath...* storm. The chefs have been called back and we are serving small *... breath...* meals."

Miranda did rather want to get down there. "Do you know if commander Shepard is down there? Or any armed service-people?"

"Some armed men, madam. *... breath"*

Interestingly Miranda felt as thought she had entered into a game with Joker, and she quite honestly wanted to see it through for some reasons of mild thrill and amusement. She was experiencing, very mildly, something of that much written about thrill felt usually by women who get intimate with preposterous and unappealing men. She didn't like going on and on at his manhood in the same way she could potentially like it in some men. She was enjoying it a little for how disgusting, how stupid, and dangerous it was.

Miranda said she'll be down in a little bit and to please tell the service people of the Normandy that Operative Lawson will be down soon and there is no need to call for her.

"Very well. *... breath...* I must inform you that not all rooms can adequately protect from the dust particles. *... breath ...* If you discover any irritation, please inform *... breath...* a member of staff."

Miranda thanked him and shut the door. The heavy thump and triple click of her solid door shutting helped to sooth her into a state of comfort and seclusion again. Joker was standing in the corner of the room where the door opened inward and shielded him. Miranda didn't have to ask him if the shock brought on by the knock at the door and the ensuing conversation which lasted nearly a minute simmered his explosive potential. She could see his penis had shrunk and his first complexion had cooled.

Miranda sucked loudly on her lip and Joker took a seat by the table. Both looked around the room quietly. It was all awash in the same blotchy and stripy monochrome light.

"Would it..." Miranda walked over to the table and took a seat on the other side. "Would it help you if I undid my bra and had my breasts out?"

"That definitely couldn't hurt" Joker said confidently, as if it weren't for his insane mental exertions he wouldn't have splattered himself and the whole bed 25 minutes ago.

Miranda took a deep breath and said "alright, let's give it another go, shall we?"

... ?+6 ...

Miranda's breasts filled her bra and were still spectacularly round and buoyant when free. They were full and hefty enough to have the quality all big breasts have - of hanging rather than perching from the body, and they hung just enough to give the impression of weight and size.

As Joker jumped up on the table, with only his shirt on he could have clawed and torn to pieces Miranda if she were not human, but just some object for which he felt equal desire. He simply could not believe that he was going for another round, and that she was going to put her actual spit on his cock, and was going to rub it in with her own hands until he orgasms, and that they were her real, honest, boobs, soft and swaying within grasp.

Joker laid back on his elbows for a good view of what was to come. Miranda swept a long curtain of hair behind her ear as she pursed her lips and dropped a long wad of spit down his shaft. Without hesitation, she grabbed his beefy member where it landed and massaged it in.

It had only been 30 seconds of Miranda giving pleasure to the head of his cock when he felt that she was going to bring an end to everything very quickly if he didn't renter his abominable dream world. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders were raised in tension and one could see two little pearly white shapes where her two front teeth were digging into her thick bottom lip as she, with great force, speed, and it had to be said; passion, pumped his juicy and soaked manhood. It may not have been honest sexual passion. But regardless, she was passionate to bring this silly and dangerous game to an end.

She leant in and spat again. Joker heard that and very nearly blew it all then and there. She kept pumping it fiercely, twisting over the head, flicking his thick purple lip, creating an unignorable cacophony of meaty smacks and *shlicks*.

"Joker" She said continuing to polish that pole of meat as it made her body wobble and jiggle and her hair wave. "I don't mind if you look". He so desperately wanted to look, but it would mean only seconds of continued pleasure. She didn't notice but her nipples were solid, and the areolas were covered in little pink goosebumps. Joker looked up and noticed and threw his head back with a moan.

*shlick shlick shlick*

"Come on, you're meant to look, that was the point." She said this with some juddering in her voice caused by the force of her fist sending shockwaves up her body.

Joker craned his neck up and looked at her as he chewed on his lip and begged for the strength not to let it end. Miranda kept her eyes fixed on his chest and on his sloppy and worn manhood. By necessity, Joker had begun to stare through her jiggling and rocking boobs into his beckoning world of horrors that would keep him at bay.

"Come on now, Joker" *pump pump pump* "Don't forget to say when it's about to happen" *shlick shlick shlick*.

Joker began to tremble and manifest a seriously red faced, constipated expression. He was pressed hard up again the very highest limits of his endurance. His breath modulated his breath like a pilot in a fast spinning fuselage. *Gasp. Hold. Exhale quickly. Repeat*

*Shlick! Shlick! Shlick! Shlick! Shlick! Shlick!*

Miranda was beginning to lose strength in her arms. She had switched hands twice already, and here, had to go in for a third.

*Shlick! Shlick! Shlick!... Spit… Shlick! Shlick! Shlick!*

"Stop bloody holding back Joker, for goodness sake it's obvious, just let go" Miranda delivered this reality check to Joker at a bold, clear volume that, if not for the mix of male moans and wet, meaty pounds, would have been a little too loud for a room of that size.

*Shlick! Shlick! Shlick!... THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK* Miranda had begun beating his soaked member all the way to the base.

Reality flooded back into Joker with that alarming statement. The game was up and he knew it. It was time to fully enjoy it and stop crouching in hidden worlds that dulled the pleasure. With a new, unafraid outlook he peered at the bare, stark world and drank deep from the reality of the situation. He looked at Miranda's eyes and hers met his for a moment. He said her name clearly in his head and looked down her hard, slim, porcelain form to her madly pumping fist. All of his sensations were more acute. He could feel her individual fingers rib the lip of his beefy, solid member. He felt so sharply the ring her hand had made around the base of his shaft. That fluid in which his big aching dick was soaked resolved itself in his mind from the grotesque liquids his imagination was inventing into what it really was; a heavy, accumulated coating of Miranda Lawson's private spit.

Reality continued to pour until he was positively saturated with the sights, smells, sounds, and feelings.

Miranda had become exhausted. Both of her arms ached and the texture and shape of his wet pole of meat were beginning to numb her palms. "Joker, I'm-" *THWACK SMACK THWACK SMACK THWACK* "-going to stop In a-".

Joker made a sudden brutal groan akin to a car screeching to a stop. He clunked his head back against the table and threw his hips into the air as a very fast wad of thick white cum shot out and struck Miranda's chin. His abs vibrated against the surface of his torso, and the tendons in his neck protruded out as his jaw clenched. As a vibrating mass of meat, muscle and pleasure he shouted with a husky tense voice "NOW. NOW."

Miranda said nothing as Joker began his orgasm. The smack on the chin irritated her considerably. *I warned you, you disgusting dunce* she thought, clutching his squirting meat. She had every intention of avoiding his semen, and so employed the two-fold tactic of not touching the head as it spewed, and aiming his agonising cock back towards him. But it only succeeded in helping her avoid a single fast, sharp spit of cum as Joker's legs suddenly wrapped around Miranda's hips and bum, contracted harshly and pulled her in. A giant skid of cum shot all the way up between from her belly through between her breasts.

She looked down at it and enjoyed watching it flex and wriggle and kick and squirt like a real living organism. A few spurts fired over his own body and rand down the window behind him.

After the fifth second, that well known component of an orgasm, the wonderful furry, tingly warmth that encapsulated one's body began to simmer a little in Joker - as it usually is the first thing to go, but his member was still at full, intolerable sensitivity as she clutched it with both hands on the shaft.

He slowly pried his eyes open and propped himself on his elbows to see what was going on. A shot flew at him and over his shoulder. When he saw his own private fluids plastered up Miranda's torso, a physical wave of indescribable lust that was so intense it nearly hurt, caused him to bucked hips hard up into her hand, and she, obligingly, but none too happily, took the raw head in hand, and pumped a few times, inevitably catching a few splattering wads of goopy, heavy cum in her palm.

Another sharp spit flew at him, and in response she aimed it away with a quick contraction just in time for yet another flying wad to come crashing against her thick wet lips. In response she let go of him completely in disgust and let his manhood empty whatever it had left on its owner.

... ?+6 …

Joker's heart was rapping into his chest at 90, hard beats per minute - his new resting heart rate, as he silently and dreamily sat in the company of his crew in dinner hall on the ground floor of the hotel, waiting out the storm with them.

Miranda was at the empty reception, looking left and right for a member of staff, in order to be moved to a new room.

"You look all bright and fresh" Said Jack, strolling into the main lobby, arms swinging, not a care in the world, bored out of her mind.

"I had a shower. And you should too" She retorted without a glance back at her.


End file.
